“Hi, Joanne! I am calling you to let you know that I am all moved in to the farm house.”
“I miss you already, Therese. To think, a year ago, this wouldn’t have been possible.”
“I know, it’s one good thing about the pandemic. We found out that working from home is possible and that home could be anywhere. And even more surprising, administration agreed to it. I always wanted to live in an old house in the country and now I am.”
“So, what are you doing to keep busy out in the country? Reading, I suppose.”
“No, actually, I am trying to complete my mystery.”
“Is your computer hooked up? You do have power, don’t you?’
“Yes, and running water and heat too. The house was built in the 1870’s, but it was updated along the way except for the internet connection. So, I am unable to work yet and I can’t do any genealogy research. I am using an old typewriter I found in an upstairs closet. It looks like the manual typewriter Jessica Fletcher used. I am hoping it brings me good luck and I find an interesting way to solve the murder in my book.”
“Well good luck with that. I will call you at the end of the week and you can read me what you wrote.”

“Therese, I am calling you as promised. Did you finish your mystery?”
“No. I started writing a story about my mother and how her mother died when she was three months old and she never got to know her mother’s family which was one of her regrets. She knew her mother’s maiden name was Danis and her mother’s sister’s name was Eileen because she was maid of honor at her parent’s wedding, but that’s all.”
The day after Joanne and I talked, a very strange thing happened. When I sat down at the old typewriter, there was a new sheet of paper in it with the words “Look in the cemetery”. I had a couple of glasses of wine the night before and was watching Bones and Law and Order on TV, so I thought I must have typed this before I went to bed based on an idea I got after watching one of these shows. I had no memory of doing it and wracked my brain trying to figure out what I was thinking of writing, but couldn’t remember.
When I told Joanne about the incident she said, “You are getting old and forgetful.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I retorted. But then the next day there was the same note again, only in bigger letters. I didn’t have any wine and I watched sitcoms the night before. This morning the same note was there, but in even bigger letters which were bolded.
Joanne showed concern. “Do you lock your doors at night and the windows?”
“Yes, and Rufus didn’t bark, so nobody got in.”
“Well keep me posted and call me next week. Be careful.”

“Joanne, I solved the mystery!”
“I’m glad. Who was the killer?”
“Not my book mystery, the mystery of the typewriter. It was nice yesterday, so I began exploring the property. I have five acres, you know. There is a copse of trees in the far-left hand corner behind the house and I decided to go look over there. It’s a mess of fallen trees and brush, but guess what I found? A family cemetery!”
“That’s nice.”
“I found a tombstone for an “Eileen Danis, Daughter”. She was born two years after my grandmother. I guess she never married. It may be my grandmother’s sister. And there was another tombstone for “Leopold Danis, Father” and “Eugenia Chaput Danis, Mother”. I think they are my family.”
“Therese, that would be quite the coincidence. Do you really think it is possible? And why would a typewriter tell you to look in the cemetery? You may be missing a few chairs in the attic.”
“I went to the town library to do some genealogy research and the elderly librarian told me that Leo Danis who used to own the farm was the town historian before his death. He wrote articles for the weekly newspapers on an old typewriter. I think Leo is my great grandfather and he was telling me to look in the cemetery so I would know it.”
“Spooky, but congratulations! You managed to solve a mystery after all.”

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